NEW DIMENSION OF DISGUST

The other night, a friend of mine told me a story.
It seems an acquaintance of hers was on vacation, and did not have a dressy pair of trousers for a specific event.
She asked the woman she was staying with if she could borrow a pair of hers.
This woman replied; "Sure, you can borrow these, as long as you don't mind the clitty litter."
CLITTY LITTER.
Clitty mother fucking Litter.

There are so many, many problems with this story:

1. No woman over the age of 13 should borrow another woman's trousers. If I didn't have suitable attire for an event while I was far from home, my plan would be thus:

A. Put on some fabulous lipstick.
B. Wear whatever sequined unitard, billowing Hammer pants, scratch n' sniff ski boots, fringed and beaded bustier, Bedazzled chaps or plaid poncho I had in my suitcase. (And yes, some of those items have been found in my suitcase before.)
C. Hope I could slide by on my wit and charm.

Shit, I didn't even like trading clothes when I was 13. Made no sense to me. I was never interested in joining the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants.

2. If you are offering trousers {shudder} to another woman...GIVE HER A CLEAN PAIR!

3. I cannot stress how grossed out I am by this "clitty litter" term. It is so vile that it haunts my dreams and every waking hour. I will not be able to eat cottage cheese for months. I will not look at cats or trousers or litter boxes in the same way again. I will be dropping off all of my trousers at the dry cleaners, even ones I haven't worn yet. If this condition persists, you will probably find me hallucinating in an alley way somewhere, wild-eyed, frightened, chanting "clitty litter, clitty litter, clitty litter" over and over again, rubbing myself with raw meat.*

*Reference to a brilliant 1993 Lifetime movie starring Valerie Bertinelli called "Murder of Innocence". The raw meat scene is acting at it's finest.

NUNS CAN BE FUN!

I just read this gem from the Associated Press:

NEW YORK – Nuns who own a New York City apartment house have filed a lawsuit saying a tenant couple is stinking up the building with "horrible" food smells "similar to that of vomit or rotten meat." The lawsuit by the Missionary Sisters of the Sacred Heart Inc. says Gloria and Michael Lim are causing "foul and harmful odors" to come from their 16th floor apartment by cooking and smoking large quantities of fish.

The image of hardcore New York nuns suing an Asian couple is really funny to me. I also like that the "Missionary Sisters of the Sacred Heart" is incorporated. Very business savvy.
But it got me to thinking about all the ways in which nuns can be funny. Take them out of their natural habitat (yes there's a "habit" pun in there somewhere, but I'm too lazy to look for it) and nuns are quite amusing. Ask Whoopie Goldberg. She'll back me up on this one. I'm sure you' ve all thought about this before, but have you ever made a top 10 list about it?


TOP 10 SITUATIONS IN WHICH NUNS ARE HILARIOUS

1. Working the drive-thru window at Arby's

2. Riding with the Hells Angels

3. Pumping gas...into a 70's van with an airbrushed bikini babe on the side

4. At the gynecologist's office, feet in stirrups

5. Playing the accordion/bagpipes/tuba

6. Kickboxing...at the gym while Beyonce's "Single Ladies (Put A Ring On It)" blares in the background

7. Doing the Riverdance

8. At a tailgate party...manning the barbeque, face painted with their team colors

9. At a rodeo

10. In a mosh pit

Any others?

LEAKED CNN MEMO

I love our Peon Confidential spies. You people do great work. You put the CIA and the MI6 to shame.

Yesterday, one of our spies sent me the Time Warner Year End Message from Jeff Bewkes. It was full of the usual "great job folks" type platitudes, and the expected "but in this tough economy, we face certain challenges."

Now, this is all true.
But what pissed off our spy was this line:

"Just as important to our future is making sure that we correctly manage our structure and costs. It's been hard, but we've made good progress on our aggressive agenda for the year."

Why is this so annoying? Well, our spy provided this nugget:

"The terms of Bewkes’ contract with Time Warner include a base salary of $2 million upon his election as chairman and an annual discretionary cash bonus with a target amount of $8.5 million. An additional long-term incentive package puts Bewkes’ total compensation at as much as $19 million."

Naturally, this prompted further analysis:

"WTF? You want to manage costs? How about not having a potential $19 million dollar pay package?"

Indeed.

THE WEIRD CONSEQUENCES OF NOT DRIVING

Those of you know me are well aware that I don't drive. Never had a driver's license. The whole concept just freaks me out; idiotic me behind the wheel, in control of a car. It actually wakes me up when I have nightmares about driving.
Now, since I live in the United States and not a quaint French village, not having a car has put me in some strange situations.
Such as:

-Getting stranded in downtown Atlanta while looking at lofts, and wandering into a Christian charity office to call a cab. I was allowed to use the phone only after I assured them I had accepted The Lord as my Savior.

-Getting into the back of the cop car that was patrolling St. Pete Beach, Florida. Apparently, I was waiting for a bus that had stopped running. The cop gave me a lift home, not before radioing in that he had a "Caucasian female" in his car. Two days later he tried to get my phone number from the building security guard.

-Considering enlisting in the Navy, because it was within walking distance of my San Diego apartment. I actually called them, and was told with my degree, I could be an officer. I realized how ridiculous this idea was and hung up.

-Considering becoming a stock broker, because Morgan Stanley was within walking distance of my San Diego apartment. I actually took the Morgan Stanley entrance test, but half-way through realized how ridiculous the idea was and proceeded to leave. Some Morgan Stanley bigwig stopped me and called me into his office to give me a pep talk. I still didn't pursue a career as a stock broker.

-Crouching in the back of a New Orleans cab, awaiting gun play, as my cabbie pulled out his gun and called another driver the N word.

-Receiving a pink muumuu and matching shoes plus a decorative brass plate from a Moroccan cab driver who used to drive me home from CNN at 4am every morning.

-Sleeping on Ted Turner's sofa until I could take MARTA at 6am and getting hustled out by two security guards.

-Getting stranded in downtown Cochran, Georgia and having to hang out in Badcock furniture store for an hour, sitting on a Lay-Z-Boy and chatting with the employees. I helped sell a dinette set.

-Actually walking in Atlanta, Georgia, which caused drivers to stop and ask if I was in trouble.

-Actually walking in L.A., where no one asked if I was in trouble but just looked at me like I was insane.

SANTA, MAKE IT A PROMISCUOUS KOALA FOR ME!

So-
I have found the perfect gift for that special someone on your list...
For a paltry 40 bucks a year, you can adopt a koala:
ADOPT A WILD KOALA
Cool right?
But I don't recommend adopting just any koala.
There is no finer way of showing someone you care than presenting them with a certificate that states they've adopted Bago Babe, a koala with chlamydia! And look at her--isn't the little tramp cute?
You've also got to make sure to include her description with your gift. You could even type it up in some fancy font, or perhaps write it in calligraphy on an elegant piece of stationary:

Bago...had a very strange offensive smell exuding from her chest, neck, and upper arms that had us a little mystified as to what it could be. She also had signs of staining around her rear quarters, indicative of Chlamydia, and she was also tending to dribble quite a bit.

Bago Babe is my STD ridden holiday dream come true. I love you Bago!

PEON CONFIDENTIAL PARTY ETIQUETTE

So-
I've been reading a lot of these "What Not To Do At An Office Holiday Party" lists like this:
OFFICE PARTY PERILS
And I have just one thing to say:
For the love of all that is good, juicy and delicious about this festive time of year: Throw that dull bullshit out the window.
Honestly, what the fuck is wrong with these list-writing, fun-crushing assholes?
The whole point of an office holiday party is to create gossip for the next day. And what are people supposed to talk about around the water cooler if no one is generous enough to provide good material?
Picture it:
Imagine if no one xeroxed their ass? If no one propositioned the boss with a can of whipped cream and a sly smile? If no one did the cabbage patch? If no one lit their socks on fire? If no one barfed in a ficus plant? If no one burped out "Jingle Bells"? If no one did anything they regretted the next day?

What would be the point?

So I'm begging you:
When you attend your office holiday party--drink too much, tell dirty jokes, wear your underpants on your head or find some other unique way to embarrass yourself.
And then e-mail me with all the details.

KING DING DONG

I just wanted to say that I really miss King Ding Dong. Look at him. He's a benevolent leader. Jolly, even.
Hostess, are you listening?
It's time to restore King Ding Dong to his rightful throne. His majesty has been in cream-filled exile for far too long.

SAVORY SEMEN

A peon getting an early start on holiday shopping e-mailed yesterday to let me know what I'm getting for Christmas:
COOKING WITH SEMEN

Well, I just cannot wait to get my hands on that book. Note the charming inscription: "Like fine wine and cheeses, the taste of semen is complex and dynamic. Semen is inexpensive to produce and is commonly available in many, if not most, homes and restaurants. Despite all of these positive qualities, semen remains neglected as a food."

We cannot sit idly by as this culinary resource continues to be shunned. I think the first recipe I'll try is the Cumin Rub, or perhaps the simple Tossed Salad.

But I think there are plenty of recipes that appear to have been left out. Maybe even enough for a follow up book.
Here are a few I came up with:

-Jamaican Jerk Chicken

-Beef Stroke-it-off

-Shrimp Cocktail

-Holiday Cum Balls

-Cock Au Vin

*Bonus Submitted by CNN Hard News Cafe Legend, Roz: Turkey Tetrajizzy

SANDWICH ABUSE

I am so pissed off with the state of journalism today. Check out this amazing headline from the AP:
MAN NABBED AFTER HITTING GIRLFRIEND WITH SANDWICH

Naturally, I'm intrigued. I read further:

PORT ST. LUCIE, Fla. – A man faces a domestic battery charge after allegedly hitting his girlfriend with a sandwich as she was driving on Interstate 95 on Friday. Police said the 19-year-old man became angry and hit the woman in the arm and face with a sandwich, knocking her glasses off.

But I suspect all readers have the same question...which goes unanswered: "Police haven't said what type of sandwich was involved."

DAMN! How can you even release this story without answering that question? If I were the reporter on this story, I would camp out in front of the police station for hours on end, denying myself my afternoon gin and tonic just to get the answer to that question. I would hound that police department! I'd inundate them with endless phone calls--from a nasty, germy, piss scented phone booth if I had to.

I cannot believe this.

That said--if I had to guess, I'd go with a footlong meatball sub; purchased late in the afternoon so the meatballs are all hard and dry from sitting in that metal vat all day...And stale hoagie bread.
That's a key element.
I've seriously cut myself on stale hoagie bread.
You don't want to fuck with brutal baked goods like that.

10 EMPLOYMENT OPTIONS FOR GEORGE W. BUSH

In a couple months, our current Commander in Chief will be unemployed. Now, I've been in this situation many times before. It's no fun. So I'm going to offer up some post-presidential career options for George W. Bush:

1. Establishing a hotline for The Prevention of Pretzel-Related Accidents.

2. Running a cheerleading camp for boys who want to follow in his spirited Yale footsteps.

3. Manufacturing a line of W codpieces inspired by the "Mission Accomplished" photo op from 2003. (See above)

4. Managing a Brush Clearing Service.

5. Creating an on-line nickname generator for future Cabinet members and Presidential pals.

6. Taxidermist.

7. Sweeping up Laura's cigarette butts from the back patio.

8. Designing a line of inspirational sweatshirts with some of his patented quotes such as, "Families is where our nation finds hope, where wings take dream."

9. Taking creepy photos of babies wrapped up in foliage, ala Anne Geddes.

10. Going back to drinking in the afternoons.


Any other ideas? Our lame duck President is waiting.

NATIONAL PROPOSITION 8 PROTEST TODAY

Across the country today, people will be taking to the streets to stand up for equal rights:
We will be demanding respect for all families, respect for all citizens, and respect for love.
As you can see from these gorgeous photos of two activists in Chicago, we're energized, organized and ready to shout.

I hope to see you out there too!

CNN SCANDAL

A Peon Confidential spy just forwarded me an internal CNN memo:

There have been a number of incidents involving vandalism in some of our restrooms, including clogging toilets with hand towels to kicking in doors and removing screws to remove doors off hinges.

This has become a serious problem over the past few months and we have notified Security and they are investigating. If you have questions or concerns, please feel free to contact Security directly...

Any guesses on who this toilet bully is? I've got my money on Ali Velshi.

RENEGADE CHURCHGOER JUSTICE: IT'S ON, MOTHER FUCKER

Don't fuck with these parishioners:

JENSEN BEACH, Fla. – Police arrested a Connecticut man after he tried to steal communion wafers during a church service. The Martin County Sheriff's Office said 33-year-old John Samuel Ricci, of Canton, was cornered by fellow churchgoers when he grabbed a handful of wafers from the priest during communion services Saturday.
The Stuart News reported that Ricci was being held down by six or seven offended parishioners when deputies arrived at St. Martin de Porres Catholic Church in Jensen Beach. Police say two parishioners, ages 82 and 61, received minor injuries in the scuffle.
Ricci was charged with two counts of simple battery, theft and disruption of a religious assembly. He was being held Tuesday on $2,000 bond at the Martin County Jail.

The man was probably just hungry. As you can see from the photo, he doesn't look particularly well nourished. (Or groomed for that matter.) I love that he was "cornered" by fellow churchgoers, as he was clutching excess amounts of the body of Christ. I'm picturing an ornery gaggle of women in floral dresses and pantyhose, their thighs rubbing together and making that "whisp whisp" noise. And as they held him down he was probably suffocated by clouds of Elizabeth Arden perfume and pious outrage.

I'm assuming this guy didn't know that these wafers aren't a taste sensation. I learned this early on, which prompted me to ask why communion wafers didn't come in nacho cheese or barbeque flavor.

I never got an answer, just a stern look.

HUNTER S. THOMPSON

So-
Now that the election is over, I can get back to writing about useless shit...
I thoroughly enjoyed being Hunter S. Thompson for Halloween. But in hindsight, I may have taken the gonzo shenanigans too far. Questionable behavior included:

1. Getting very drunk and arguing with The Phantom of the Opera and Scooby Doo.
2. Grabbing my rather shy friend's right boob and shouting, "Nice knockers!"
3. Repeatedly flipping off a nice suburban woman who was trying to snap a photo of a nice pregnant woman.

The list goes on.
And on.
Maybe next year I'll avoid temptation and dress up as a more sedate writer. I can't imagine achieving this level of embarrassment if I were impersonating a Bronte sister.

Okay. I could probably find a way, but it would be tough.

NOVEMBER 5th, 2008

Now that's what I call a beautiful First Family.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN, HUNTER!

"If you're going to be crazy, you have to get paid for it or else you're going to be locked up."
-Hunter S. Thompson

Happy Halloween everyone!
I hope you all have a delicious, spooky and delightful night.

As for me, I'll be dressed as Hunter S. Thompson. Not sure if he'd approve. But I'm a huge fan of his, and he's not around to complain. I'd like to think he'd appreciate the homage. Except that more than likely, he'd tell me to fuck off, take a swig of whisky and bang out a line on his typewriter like, "In a world of thieves, the only final sin is stupidity."
And that's why I'm a huge fan.

I'll post some pics as soon as I get them...

RICHARD SIMMONS JACKPOT

Just read this story from the AP:

HONOLULU – The best bargain at the Salvation Army thrift store in Kailua-Kona was a Richard Simmons videotape. But Mikela Mercier, 11, decided to pass up the chance to buy the tape for a few coins after she found a surprise inside: $1,000 in $100 bills.

Okay, so kudos to the little girl for her honesty. Very cool.
When I was 11, I would have stuffed that $1,000 in my too-tight velour sweatpants pocket and bought up every single "My Little Pony" at KB Toys. Then I would have made a beeline to the food court and pillaged the Mrs. Fields Cookies stand.

But what I want to know is...why was she looking at a Richard Simmons videotape? She's 11. Did she view it as some sort of archeological find?

And finally...any guesses on which lucky Peons are flanking the joyous Richard Simmons in the above photo?

SARAH PALIN CAN KISS MY FAT MEDIA ELITE ASS

I don't normally get political on this blog, mostly because it was created in the spirit of fun and CNN nostalgia. I started it as a way for us "peon" CNNers (past or present) to connect and goof off together. But just bear with me today. Because we're 7 days away from the most important election in years, and I'm pissed off.
And I know this post isn't going to matter, because only 4 of you read this blog. So consider this a personal catharsis.

Bottom line:
Sarah Palin is an asshole.

But I'm so fucking sick of idiotic shit like this:

WHY SOME WOMEN HATE SARAH PALIN

This is not why she provokes such a visceral reaction. This is not why she inspires an intense desire to hock a loogie on her smug face, and watch it slide down her cheek, smearing her orange makeup. I am so annoyed with the notion that women hate this ruthless, ignorant, phony, manipulative moose killer because we love a Dynasty style cat fight (with or without the swimming pool) or we can't stand to see another woman succeed...especially if she's pretty. Or because she's a "mean girl" who gets all the male attention.
That's not the point.
Neither is this:

WHY THEY HATE HER

No, that's not why "they" hate her. As in me. As in most of my colleagues. As in my relatives. As in my friends. As in smart, savvy bitches across the country. Her private decisions should have no bearing on her political career. These decisions don't affect me, or the economy or geopolitical events. Those are family issues. What she does in that realm is a personal choice, and I firmly believe in the right of choice for all women. Even if Sarah Palin would never give me the same respect in return.

So why is Sarah Palin an asshole?
Glad you asked...

Top 10 Reasons Why I Hate Sarah Palin And Cannot Wait For Her To Face The Harsh Morning Light Of November 5th:

1. She is totally, unequivocally, unqualified. This isn't sexism, this isn't partisanship. This is obvious.
And any women who want Sarah Palin to be VP just because she has a pussy should have their right to vote revoked.
I didn't believe these types of moron voters existed until I heard it with my own ears.
That's not progressive.
That's an embarrassment.

2. She is vain, self-centered and proudly provincial.

3. That awful voice.

4. She's a hypocrite. She seems just as corrupt as the "Boys Network" and " Washington Insiders" she rails against (plus she rails against them with that awful voice.)

5. All that GOP money on clothes and she still looks like a cheap insurance saleswoman who fucks the boss to get ahead on their business trip to Topeka.

6. A woman in a position of power does not automatically benefit women. Look at Margaret Thatcher. Look at Imelda Marcos. If Stalin had been a woman (Stalina, perhaps) would women have reason to sing? As much as Palin claims to love Democracy and freedom, she has some seriously despotic tendencies.

7. Her fake folksy ways. So damn transparent. As evidenced by...

8. ...when Joe Biden started tearing up about his family at the VP debate, and she didn't even acknowledge him. She seems incapable of understanding other people's perspectives. Which relates to...

9. Zero empathy, zero ability to connect with Americans she deems "not real" (i.e. people who live in big, Blue State cities.)

BUT MOST OF ALL:

10. The whole "Media Elite" thing. I guess I just don't get it, mostly because I've been in news for over a decade, and most of the media professionals I've known are in no way "elite." They bust their asses (and no, those asses aren't as hot as Sarah Palin's tight buns because they spend less time jogging and more time logging soundbites at the computer.) They're the lowly folks who scramble to meet deadlines or get the news on the air, who beg for overtime to pay the rent, who carry their lunch to work in Tupperware. They hand off their kids to their spouses in between shifts. They wear crappy clothes.

There's a reason this blog is called "Peon Confidential". Most of us, the ones who do the grunt work, we're just trying to get by. It is absurd for Sarah Palin to blame this murky "Media Elite" for her inability to present a coherent political platform during an interview. Who exactly is she talking about? Yes, celebrity reporters and anchors are wealthy, well-connected and well dressed. But they aren't even half of the media equation. The traditional image of the journalist has always been the rumpled schlub in a dirty raincoat; the same outfit of choice as the crazy homeless guy or the flasher pervert down the street. We're often broke, tired and have bad breath from consuming nasty coffee at odd hours.

Most of us ARE Joe the Plumber, just transplanted to a hectic newsroom. Instead of unclogging toilets we push buttons in a control room.

So Sarah Palin, fuck you.
Seriously.
Fuck you and the moose you rode in on.

BLIND ITEM #12

Which CNN cutie, known more for her hair extensions than her extensive knowledge of news, really loves her breakfast sandwiches? She was wolfing one down when she heard the on air countdown. So she simply shoved the eggy delight inside her jacket, up against her boob.
She delivered the news.
As soon as the camera light went off, she happily retrieved the savory goods from her bosom and resumed munching on her breakfast.

EUNUCHS AND BAD STYLE

EUNUCHS:
As promised, I visited The Forbidden City and became a virtual imperial eunuch. I don't know. Maybe it's because I already don't have a penis, but it wasn't that exciting.

BAD STYLE:
The RNC spent $4,716.49 on Sarah Palin's hair and makeup through September after reporting no such costs in August.

$4,716.49????

I haven't been to Super Cuts in a while, but it sounds like their prices have really gone up.

10 UPDATES YOU SHOULDN'T PUT ON FACEBOOK

I have a love/hate relationship with Facebook. I love seeing photos. I love reading wall greetings. But then someone (occasionally me) will post an update so incredibly lame that it will ruin my whole experience, and I will log off in disgust.

Top 10 Updates You Shouldn't Put on Facebook:


1. Ted should have used Preparation H.

2. Denise thinks her husband is a no good piece of shit bastard.

3. Fran is getting a pap smear today :)

4. Joyce likes to roast puppies over a spit and eat them. Yummy!

5. Denise thinks that slut Trish is a home wrecking bitch.

6. Fred embezzled $175,000 from his company. See ya in Bermuda suckers!!!!

7. Denise longs for the days when cheaters were branded with a scarlet letter.

8. Herb likes the feel of silky panties against his balls.

9. Ralph enjoys kicking short, hairy nuns on Wednesdays.

10. Denise wants her husband to know that if he thinks he and his whore are getting the house, he's an even bigger prick than she thought he was.

DEN OF SPIES SHORT FILM

For those of you who couldn't slink on over to the last Mama D's Arts Bordello, Danny Figueroa uploaded his opening vignette to YouTube, and I'm offering it up here on Peon Confidential.
Produced by Lofty Productions, this is a mystery filled, action packed cinematic masterpiece...

FAMOUS!

Hello everyone!
Mama D's Arts Bordello got some love today on Media Bistro's GalleyCat blog!
Click and enjoy:

GALLEYCAT ON MEDIA BISTRO

OVERDUE PHOTOS

So--
I was a bit lazy with these, but one of you asked me to post some photos from the VP Debate Party I hosted a couple weeks back.
For some odd reason, I just took photos of the Biden/Palin themed food, and neglected to take pics of people. This means I have no evidence of my less-than-authentic Palin Hive. I think the reason mine did not look quite right is because her hair is held in place by a strong combination of moose spit, Republican gumption and Aqua Net.

Here's what you're looking at:

-Itchy Trigger Finger Tortilla Chips
-Planned Parenthood Punch
-Lipsticked Pigs in Blankets
-Wasilla Quesadillas

MAMA D'S ARTS BORDELLO PRESENTS: DEN OF SPIES

The craziest night of spy-flavored action is almost here! Prepare to be deviously entertained on Thursday, October 9th...

Lock up your classified documents, synchronize your watch, don your fake mustache and head over to the bordello for a night of intrigue. You'll be tantalized by Nasty Canasta's dangerous brand of burlesque and Pandora's sexy go go dancing, hear Charles Salzberg read from his new mystery novel, "Swann's Last Song", listen to Matt and Mary's tribute to James Bond themes, enjoy a mysterious short film from Jason Wicks and enter a high stakes 007 Dossier trivia contest where you can win villainous prizes...

No secret password needed for entry. A mere $7 bucks will do the trick.

DATE: October 9th, 2008
TIME: 8pm
PLACE: The Parkside Lounge
ADDRESS: 317 E. Houston between B and C Avenues
SUBWAY: F, V
COVER: $7

FLAPJACKS AND POLITICS

I have noticed that every four years, flocks of overly-hairspsrayed reporters and politicians descend upon diners and dingy little cafes in small towns, hoping to track down real, honest, hardworking Americans in their natural habitat. During election season, these are the only regular people (i.e. non-pundits) who can shed light on America's political climate. Moreover, if we've learned anything from the last few months, it's that small town Americans are the only "real" Americans. Only small towns represent true American values (cue John Cougar Mellencamp.)

So, reporters from various networks interrupt these hearty folks while they're eating flapjacks and slurping bad coffee to ask them about "the issues". And it's always the same kinds of places, the same kinds of people and the same kinds of answers.

I'm tired of this shit.

Why not mix it up?
Instead of going to Connie's Corner Cafe, why not check in on patrons at:

1. Moe's Taxidermy Emporium
2. Hooters
3. Barney's department store men's shoe section
4. The Castro District in San Francisco
5. The Podiatrist's Office
6. The Liberace Museum in Las Vegas
7. Cheap nail salons in strip malls
8. The gift shop at Graceland
9. Pete's Meat House of St. Petersburg, Florida
10. Any package store in a ghetto part of town

Where else?

PALIN FLIRTATION

Watching Sarah Palin wink repeatedly into the camera last night made me feel like she was trying to pick me up at a Holiday Inn bar.
I kept thinking that at any minute the DJ would play some Lionel Richie, a waitress would serve me some buffalo wings and I'd look out the window at an impressive view of I-95.

Anyone else have the same reaction?

THE THRILLA FROM WASILLA

So-
I'm inviting a couple of politically passionate buddies over to watch Thursday's Vice Presidential debate, which I'm hoping will be delectable. Fattening, even.
I had planned on having a low key Halloween party this year, but I'm doing this instead because the prospect of that idiotic, screechy voiced, book banning moose hunter getting anywhere near the White House is scary enough.
The point is:
I'm compiling a menu to fit the theme, and I need your input.
As of now, the menu consists of:

1. Wasilla Quesadillas (yes, quesadilla MUST be pronounced to rhyme with Wasilla.)

2. Planned Parenthood Punch (this will have a healthy splash of cheap beer, which has been the instigator of unprotected sex for generations.)

3. Biden's Balls (I'm hoping his are made of steel, while these will be made of turkey.)

4. Chocolate Moose

5. Lipsticked Pigs in Blankets

What else?

THE ART OF THE FART

It is with great pride that I tell you this:
I woke up this morning, logged into my e-mail account and saw that TWO of you delightful Peons had sent me the following story. It is very flattering to know that when people see a story about farting, I am the go to recipient of that story.
If this were an SAT exam, the correct equation might read: "Pet hair is to black pants as VJDutton is to fart stories."

SOUTH CHARLESTON, W.Va. - A West Virginia man who police said passed gas and fanned it toward a patrolman has been charged with battery on a police officer.
Jose A. Cruz, 34, of Clarksburg, was pulled over early Tuesday for driving without headlights, police said. According to the criminal complaint, Cruz smelled of alcohol, had slurred speech and failed three field sobriety tests before he was handcuffed and taken to a police station for a breathalyzer test.
As Patrolman T.E. Parsons prepared the machine, Cruz scooted his chair toward Parsons, lifted his leg and "passed gas loudly," the complaint said.
Cruz, according to complaint, then fanned the gas toward the officer.
"The gas was very odorous and created contact of an insulting or provoking nature with Patrolman Parsons," the complaint alleged.
Cruz acknowledged passing gas, but said he didn't move his chair toward the officer nor aim gas at the patrolman. He said he had an upset stomach at the time, but police denied his request to go to the bathroom when he first arrived at the station.
"I couldn't hold it no more," he said.

Yeah. The last line is my favorite too.

CANDY CORN AND MARXISM

I was just thinking back to my chock-full-of hippies formative years on Whidbey Island. For the most part, it was great. You really felt connected to the whole community, there was a creative spirit, and if you ever ran out of pot, you could usually find some in your friend's kitchen, right next to the organic oats.
But it wasn't always fun to have socially conscious, anti-capitalist neighbors:

It was Halloween. I was nine, trick-or-treating with some pals. I was dressed as Groucho Marx, wearing my Dad's huge, red wine stained white tux jacket. It was from his third wedding, when he said "I do" to a coked up Pan Am flight attendant as "Send In The Clowns" swelled on the quadrophonic sound system. Why my mom didn't throw that ugly tux out when they remarried seven years later I'll never know. Maybe she knew it would make a valuable costume. Now that I think about it--I got a lot of use out of that thing. The following year I wore it for my gender-bending role as Abe Lincoln in the school play.

Anyway, we went up to a house with lights on and the TV blaring. Clearly, they were fair game. Everyone knows if you display any signs of life in your house on Halloween, you're ripe for the begging. Admittedly, this house had no decorations, and there was concern they'd be the types to offer up stale fruit roll ups or some such shit.
Still, we knocked. We knocked some more. We continued pounding away with our nine-year-old fists until some angry, bearded man ripped open the door and bellowed:

"WE DON'T BELIEVE IN THIS CAPITALIST HALLOWEEN CRAP! YOU WON'T GET ANY CANDY FROM US! WE DON'T BUY INTO SOME STUPID HOLIDAY THAT BENEFITS CORPORATE CANDY MAKERS AT THE EXPENSE OF CHILDREN'S TEETH. WE REFUSE TO BE PAWNS OF THE SYSTEM! NOW GET OUT OF HERE!"

So despite being dressed as Marx, I didn't curry any favor with these Halloween revolutionaries.

DANGEROUS NUDITY

I am just devastated.
A kindred spirit has been arrested in Illinois:

DELHI, Ill. - Here's a tip: Bartending nude can get you arrested.
Sheriff's deputies doing a routine check this week at a southern Illinois bar say they discovered a not-so-routine sight. Authorities allege that 33-year-old Janet Brannon was naked while serving bar patrons at the Cabin Tavern in Delhi (DEL'-ee).
Brannon was arrested and charged with misdemeanor public indecency. She was freed on $8,000 bond.
She was the only bar employee working at the time, so the tavern was closed Thursday.

See, this is where I take issue with government interference.
Pre-arrest, life was good for the patrons of the Cabin Tavern.
Happy Hour was truly happy.
Post arrest, there was no nudity AND no booze.
This is a horrifying miscarriage of justice.

That said, here's my list of The Top 5 Worst Jobs To Do In The Nude:

1. Totem pole carver
2. Olympic trampolinist
3. Pit Bull trainer
4. Smelter
5. Beekeeper

BONUS: The Guy Pictured Above

Any others?

EJACULATE UPDATE!

I told my good friend from yesterday's ejaculate post that she was the star of Peon Confidential for the day, and she sent me an update!
So today, I'm offering the official account of her trip to the fertility doctor.
Actually--are there any children's book authors out there? Now there's a kid's book I haven't seen: "A Trip To The Fertility Doctor". It should be modeled after the fantastic "Where Did I Come From?" book. Anyone else read that one as a kid? Of course, glancing at the comments section of that website makes me depressed at the state of this country. I see some parents are complaining that the happy, round illustrations of mommy and daddy are "too graphic".
They're probably Sarah Palin fans.
But I digress. Here's the fertility doctor account:

We seat-belted [the sperm tank] into the back seat of the car, and sped off with hopes that the timing was right. My doctor (who is quite a catch, by the way. I've heard she is a fertility magician who attracts wanna-be breeders from all over the midwest!) popped open the tank, revealing the drama of dry ice, and pulled out the tiny vial. She showed us the number and cap color because, of course, one should inspect to be sure the product delivered matches the product ordered. For instance, if one orders sperm from a man of Asian or Pacific Island descent and receives a specimen with a brown (African), white(Caucasian), or red (mixed ethnicity) cap, the order has been mixed-up. Our order was correct, so my partner and I relaxed with US Weekly while waiting for the contents to thaw. Finally, the doctor took all of a minute and a half to inject into my uterus the very tiny amount of concentrated "specimen" through a thin rubber syringe. She pulled off her gloves and announced, "If only all inseminations were this easy!" My partner and I cheered. I've never been so proud to be easy. I didn't even have take off my argyle socks.

My pal was also kind enough to send us the above photos. The first is a generic sperm specimen photo. (Looks like something out of a Def Leppard video, doesn't it?) The second is a far more personal photo. The specimen in that tank may well become a little child who refers to me as Crazy Auntie Saara.

And if not, she promised that "if the impregnation does not occur this month, next month we will do a photo shoot with our next shipment."

Please do! You may even want to consider an OLAN MILLS family portrait!

QUALITY EJACULATE SELECTION

Yesterday I received an e-mail brimming with the glad tidings that a good friend of mine is ready to crack open the top grade ejaculate that she and her spouse purchased. Spermination is about to commence!
She wrote:
"I have a tank full of stuff in my living room which only stays frozen for up to seven days. We're going to bring this tank to my doctor today or tomorrow. No indigo girls ballads, no turkey baster."

She also sent me all of the donor information she had sifted through in order to choose just the right cum. It was truly astonishing. Not only did I read his profile, in which I learned he has "an amazing eye for photography, color, design and ripe fruit", but I gleaned precise details about his nostril flare measurements and cowlick potential.

But best of all was the Staff Impression, in which I discovered that this donor is "friendly, cooperative and easygoing".
I told her it reminded me of the "Staff Recommendations" at Barnes & Noble. And I do not think I've ever been persuaded to purchase "Cujo" because someone named Abigail liked it.
I don't know Abigail.
Perhaps she's an asshole.
I don't care if she thinks "Cujo" is "amazing".
Fuck Abigail.

She responded with:
"It's funny...we read a lot of these and obviously what we were looking for was 'this donor is good looking.' So many of the staff people wrote all kinds of bullshit down, not once mentioning looks. If I am paying $500.00 for ejaculate, it better create a nice looking child."

Now that's my kind of jizz shopper.

CAMEL TOE DISCOVERY

So-
I sat down, slightly blurry eyed on Sunday and read this headline:
"Million-year-old camel bone unearthed in Syria"

But in my hung over state, I actually read it as:
"Million-year-old camel TOE unearthed in Syria"

I quickly decided I prefer that story to the real one.
Therefore I went ahead and rewrote the article as such:

DAMASCUS, Syria - Scientists have unearthed a camel toe in the Syrian desert that they think may be a previously unknown tiny species of toe and say dates back a million years. The camel toe was found last month near the village of Khowm in the Palmyra region, about 150 miles northeast of Damascus.

The new find could offer important clues about the camel toe's evolution, the researchers said.

"It is a very important discovery," said the head researcher. He said it is the oldest camel toe to be unearthed in the Middle East and probably worldwide.

He added in an interview Saturday that the camel toe appeared to be very small and could be a new species, but he stressed that more studies were needed to confirm that.

"This camel toe is very small in comparison with the normal camel toe," he said. "But we have to find more toes, different toes, before we can be sure it is a new species."

THE POLITICS OF LIPSTICK

So-
My mom decided to weigh in on the Sarah Palin lipstick wars.
Naturally, it was in the form of a PHONE MESSAGE. I came home, pushed the button on my answering machine and heard a harsh Finnish accent saying:

"I don't understand why that Palin woman even talked about the lipstick and pit bulls. And now I open the paper and people are talking about pigs with the lipstick and whatever else. Why all this lipstick talk? Because she doesn't even wear good lipstick. It's that kind of boring lipstick for women who are afraid to wear it. You know what I mean Saara? Women with no style wear that boring lipstick."

What I want to know is--why isn't my mom a pundit on CNN?

PHOTOGRAPHIC ZOLOFT

So, I woke up a little depressed today.
The mood was gloomy and blue.
Then by sheer good luck, I stumbled across this picture.
I am posting it, just in case any of you need a pick me up.
How can anyone be unhappy while looking at this stylish woman and her divine interior design?
Her joy is infectious!
Surely she is waiting for some equally fashionable pals to arrive for a fondue party.
I wish I were one of them.
But the question is:
What song do you think is playing on that excellent sound system?
I'm going with this one: DISCO TEX AND THE SEX-O-LETTES
What do you think?

A PLEA TO THE AIRLINE INDUSTRY

Why don't flight attendants have outfits like this anymore?
Look at how fabulous these Southwest Airlines professionals are. Now think about the hideous polyester shitpiles that you see on flight attendants these days. Horrible unflattering skirts or pleated pants and some type of fussy little button down shirt.
And bad shoes.
I say:
Since you have to pay for your stale snacks, cum-ridden blankets and crappy headsets now, I think the least airlines could do is mandate hot pants and go go boots again.

CONDOM CREATIVITY

I've said it before and I'll say it again:
I love Florida. It's the Potluck State--you just never know what you're going to get:

PORT ST. LUCIE, Fla. - Police in Port St. Lucie are on the lookout for a cross-dressing man who snatched a 74-year-old woman's purse. As if that weren't odd enough, they're depending on a strange clue. The suspect left behind a condom filled with water he had been using as a fake breast.

The woman said she believed the thief followed her while shopping. A witness told investigators he was wearing a short denim skirt and black tube top, and fled in a silver car with two other male crossdressers.

Police are processing the condom for fingerprint and DNA evidence.

In all my years of having, shall we say, less than large boobs, I've tried to remedy the situation in many ways. I've used tube socks. I've used Kleenex. I've employed the Wonderbra.
But a water-filled rubber never occurred to me.
Not once.

FAREWELL, STAR TREK EXPERIENCE

It is with more than one tear in my eye that I bid adieu to the Star Trek Experience in Las Vegas. Apparently, yesterday was the last day drunken conventioneers and hard core dorks could have a Klingon Encounter or undergo a Borg Invasion.

A fellow Peon and I were fortunate enough to enjoy this attraction during our last trip there. When I mentioned this tragic turn of events, this person said,

Vegas is a sadder place now.
First Sigfried & Roy and now this!?

What's next? Shutting down the all you can eat buffets?
And where do the displaced Trekkies go?

I thank the Lord Almighty we got to see it while we were there.

I couldn't have said it better myself.
But does anyone have an answer to this person's question?
Honestly, just where will all the displaced Trekkies go?

VINTAGE 1997 VJ FASHION RULES

So-
I was going through some photo albums, looking for pics of pals to embarrass them on Facebook, when I found, tucked behind a shot of me on the CNN set, a dot matrix print out of 10 fashion rules. These were created by another VJ and myself circa 1997. Considering I still wore shoulder pads in 1997, I don't quite know how I decided I was the arbiter of style.
However...
Let's see how many of these rules hold up today:

1. Never buy your perfume from the same place you buy your Tampax.

2. NO WHITE PUMPS. I do not care if it is before or after Labor Day, white pumps are strictly for the tuna casserole set.

3. The fanny pack is the downfall of an elegant silhouette.

4. "Suntan" pantyhose: WHY?

5. Thou shalt always wear a belt if belt loops are showing.

6. Only cooking in the kitchen: NO home perms or dye jobs.

7. On that note, NO PERMS! PERIOD! EVER!

8. Miami Vice is over. No rolling up one's jacket sleeves.

9. If you buy trousers that come with a belt (which in itself is a violation of the fashion rules) THROW IT OUT!!

10. Large breasted women should refrain from wearing very large polka dots. It makes people dizzy.

Observations:

- I think with the Tampax comment, I was trying to prevent people from purchasing the likes of Lady Stetson, Charlie, and Primo! (the Giorgio knock off.) So, that's a noble effort.

-The belt loops decree must have been drilled into my head when I worked at Express in Seattle during the summer 1991. I think that was one of their policies. Why I adopted any policies from that shithole is another story.

-I cannot believe I was still doling out advice on perms in 1997. Who was getting a perm, let alone an Ogilvy home perm, in 1997? Nobody, that's who.

-And on that note, who was making tuna casserole? (Apart from that woman who insisted upon microwaving tuna at work, thus making the breakroom stink of smelly pussy.)

-I think I violated the "rolling up the jacket sleeves" rule myself on a regular basis. Short arms and no money for tailoring=rolled up sleeves.

-"If you buy trousers that come with a belt"...where the fuck was I shopping back then? No, I don't want to know.

THE FINEST PRIZE EVER AWARDED, JACKIE COLLINS STYLE

I love you Peon Confidential readers so much that today I'm giving all of you head.
A glass head.
But it's better than that.
See these beautiful photos? These are shots of the Jackie Collins Jackpot prize from the last Mama D's Arts Bordello. I made this head with my own two dwarfy hands. Got decoupage glue all over the coffee table in the process.
Now-
Sure that's a cool head, you're thinking. It's a sensational piece of art.
But what does it mean?

Well dear reader, that head is in fact...the interior of Jackie Collins' brain.
Look closely. You'll find champagne popping, the Hollywood sign, the Beverly Hills Hotel, piles of money, bejeweled tits, half naked men, fast cars and glamorous women. (Click on the photos to enlarge the exquisite details.)

So-
With deluxe prizes like that, can you afford to miss the next show on October 9th?
I think not.

READER REQUEST: MY PINK MUUMUU

So-
I got an e-mail from a rabid new Peon Confidential fan. I say that with love, because this person enjoyed what they read so much that they went back to the very beginning posts from August of 2006. Now that's devotion! Honey, this post is for you.
This person also referenced a vintage post called BUT I'M A VJ! and asked "Do you still have that muumuu?"

Well of course I do.
What do you take me for?

As you can see in the above picture, I wore the full hot pink muumuu and pointy matching shoes ensemble for a performance I did at the People's Improv Theatre.
If only that Moroccan cabby could see me now!

EDITOR'S CORRECTIONS IN MY LIFE STORY

I'm sure many of you have noticed that newspapers and magazines usually have a "corrections" section to rectify journalistic mistakes such as spelling a person's name wrong or referencing the wrong country. In broadcast news, the anchor has this honor.
It occurred to me that I would like one of these corrections sections for my life. So I present to you a list of corrections in my life, if I had the chance to go back and edit it:

-CORRECTION #1:

VJDutton was not a weird looking little kid with a Republican Side Part whose thighs chafed in her velour sweat pants and bra-less fat man titties bulged out of her unicorn sweaters. She did not spend her days making up songs about stinky underwear and creating dog food birthday cakes for her stinky dog Charlie. She was in fact a svelte, adorable little girl who smelled of strawberries and wore shiny patent leather Mary Janes.

-CORRECTION #2:

VJDutton was not a weird looking teenager who thought it would be funny to attend the high school dance wearing plaid polyester Herb Tarlick trousers. Repeatedly. She did not escape pep rallies by climbing onto the roof of the school and smoking pot. She did not represent her school in a state wide debate competition by reciting Mark Twain and wearing thigh high gold lame boots. She was in fact, the most popular girl in school, college minded, worshipped by boys and girls alike, and wore only the most stylish attire.

CORRECTION #3:

VjDutton did not attend three different universities and wind up graduating from University of New Orleans. While in New Orleans, she did not pick her nose while walking past a drunk clown lying in a ditch. He did not wake up at just the precise moment to say "Good mornin' there nose picker!" She did in fact, graduate from Harvard. While living in Cambridge, she became the toast of academia, charming everyone at Harvard functions with her understated style, wit and decorum.

CORRECTION #4:

VJDutton's first job after college was not as an activities lackey at a resort on St. Pete Beach. She did not begin her foray into professional life by wearing a pith helmet and unflattering khaki shorts, calling out bingo numbers, passing out towels in a tiki hut on the beach, alerting housekeeping when there was poop in the pool and organizing scavenger hunts. She did in fact, accept an entry level position at The New Yorker. The person who hired her immediately sensed her drive, ambition and skill, and knew she would make her mark on the literary world.

CORRECTION #5:

VJDutton's second job out of college was not as a VJ at CNN. She did not get paid to wipe ear wax off of IFB's. Nor did she live in fear of forgetting the script color code or eat corn and rice at two o'clock in the morning as her main meal of the day. She in fact got a promotion at The New Yorker, where everyone who came into contact with her found her brilliant and she enjoyed delightful lobster dinners with New York's literary elite every single night.

CORRECTION #6

VJDutton does not currently write an idiotic blog called Peon Confidential. She in fact is currently hard at work on her third best seller. Lines for her book signings regularly require several very attractive policemen for crowd control, as people scratch and claw each other just to get close to their favorite author on the planet.